Page 146 of The Never List
I cry out his name like it’s the last word I’ll ever say, the last thought I’ll ever have in this world. My pleasure crystalizes and shatters in a crescendo that I swear makes me black out for a few seconds. I can barely catch my breath even when my vision clears, with Jax still moving inside me, still stroking me from one dazzling orgasm right into another.
I dig my nails into his back now that I can reach him, rocking in time with his thrusts as I chase another high, and he growls when I clench around him. His release sends me into another one, and I feel entirely limp as we come down.
Our breaths are synced as Jax shifts, gently pulling the pillows out from under me and rolling us until I’m sprawled against his chest. One arm wraps around me while the other one is splayed at his side, and then I’m laughing, my head and spirit thoroughly blissed out and downright giddy.
Jax grins down at me, laughing, too, and it’s all we can do before his mouth is on mine and I’m rolling atop him, never, ever getting enough.
the athanry
45
Rylee
Mirren’s jaw is set in a taut line as she does my makeup, the brushstrokes harder against my face than usual.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say as she drags the soft bristles beneath my eyes, doing her best to cover the harsh purple beneath them. “None of us could.”
She does nothing but purse her lips at me like she’s just bitten into a lemon. I’ve always loved her for her sassy attitude, but this is a level we’ve never reached before.
“I’m sorry for the extra work,” I say, and she freezes with the brush against my skin.
She huffs out an abrupt laugh, then shakes her head as she finishes with my eyes and sets down the brush. “I don’t care that you look like yesterday’s garbage.” Her tone is laced with a combination of anger and worry.
“Wow,” I say, looking up at her from where I sit in Jax’s room.
It’s been four months since Mirren first helped me get ready at the palace, and yet it feels like no time has passed at all.
“Thanks for not sugar coating that one, Mir. Charming, as always.”
She rolls her eyes, then twirls her fingers in a demandthat I turn around. I do as I’m told, my heart in my throat. Not at her comment—I know I look like shit—but at the memories of what kept me up all night in the first place.
Long, deep kisses none of us admitted had a sense of urgency behind them…as if they might be the last ones we’ll ever have.
Sweet, soft touches that filled me with confidence and longing at the same time.
Whispered stories to distract us from the night passing and a dawn breaking on the day that will change our lives one way or another.
My Legends of Chaos.
The princes of Lumathyst.
In the beginning, I’d hated the mere idea of them, but I hadn’tknownthem.
The majority of Lumathyst doesn’t understand their princes, and it’s a real fucking shame. A shame they don’t know how much they care, how much they’re trying to help make Lumathyst a better place. But they can’t know. No one can. If the kings knew how against tradition the princes are, how badly they want to reshape our country…
I can’t even think of what the kings would do to them.
Maybe not all of them, but certainly Baydel and Lucas. They’ve shown exactly how content they are with the way things are in Lumathyst.
The Legends can’t show their true intentions for this kingdom until they’re matched in power.
I swallow around the lump in my throat, resisting the urge to chew on my bottom lip. Mirren is already in a pissy mood. If I mess up her hard work? She might just kill me before the Athanry has its chance.
“Ow,” I hiss as she yanks the brush through my hair. “If you’re intent on torturing me, I’ll do my hair myself.”
She makes no move to leave. The stubborn woman just continues yanking and pulling my hair into curls and braids inlaid with ruby, sapphire, obsidian, and emerald pins.
“Why are you so angry with me today?” I finally ask when she tosses me a dress made of silver and lace. “Did you not sleep well, either?” I slide into the dress, adjusting the thin straps over my shoulders and smoothing my hands across the middle, arching an eyebrow at her when the hemline stops just below my ass. It’s certainly not the formal gown I expected for the Athanry ceremony. It’s more like a dress I’d wear to a club like Lust.
